Sequence
by spiritore
Summary: Dealing with Yashiro being kicked out of the house and the consequences of shoving him, Hikaru, and Akira into one apartment. And let's not forget the romantic tension between two of the boys. HikaruAkira
1. Sequence 0

Title: Sequence 0/?

**Author:** Ore  
**Rating:** PG-13 in the long run  
**Pairings:** future Akira/Hikaru  
**Disclaimer:** Hikaru no Go does not belong to me. Simple and so bittersweet.  
**Comments:** Dealing with Yashiro being kicked out of the house and the consequences of shoving him, Hikaru, and Akira into one apartment. But let's not forget the romantic tension building between two of the roommates.

Given a quick beta by my Chev' and Middles, since my main beta seems to have been eaten by Easter.

C&C welcome. ^_^

*****  
  
The weather report had said nothing about rain.  
  
But it had rained and it had rained hard. One moment Hikaru had been walking home under an innocent blue sky and then dark clouds had rolled in, greeting him with a sheet of rain. He had paused in both movement and thought, shocked by the sudden drenching before letting out a surprised -- and tardy -- shout and dashing down the street, hoping to make it the three blocks home before he was completely soaked. That hope had drowned within his first five frantic strides. Literally.  
  
So now he stood in front of the door to his apartment, looking like something the cat dragged in, a puddle of water rapidly forming at his feet.  
  
Hikaru leaned his forehead against the door and fumbled to get his key out of his pocket. Except he couldn't find his key. Had he put it in his backpack? Swinging it off his shoulder and shoving hands deep into its pouches did not provide him with the wished result. Nonononono! He must have left the key on the kitchen counter in his rush to leave this morning. In trying to make it to his tutorial on time -- shoving legs into pants and searching for a decent, clean shirt -- he that one important detail had escaped his mind.  
  
"Let me in," he whined at the door in some absurd hope that it would magically open. Certainly no one was going to open it. His old roommates were long gone and his new roommate had yet to move in. "Please?"  
  
The door wasn't responding to his plea. There was only one thing left to do.  
  
Thump, went his head against the door. Thump. Thump. Thump.  
  
He let out one last irritated sigh and pulled away from the door, deciding he would have to track down the landlord before he died of hypothermia or contracted pneumonia or something.  
  
Of course, that was when the door decided to open with a very familiar face poking out from behind it.  
  
"Hikaru, what are you doing?" Akari asked him.  
  
"Akari, you're here!" A scattered recollection of agreeing to have her meet him at his apartment pulled itself together. She had wanted to go over her kifu with him, but due to their schedules it had been decided that it would be easier for her to meet him at his home. And so he had passed a spare key to her during one of their brief meetings. "I-I- nothing!"  
  
"I found a set of keys on the counter, so I left the door unlocked behind me." He winced. That was Akari speak for 'stupid Hikaru!' and this time he couldn't quite deny it . . . not that he was ever going to admit it to her. "You're soaking wet."  
  
"I got caught in the storm." He stumbled by her, kicking off his sneakers next to her neatly lined up shoes.  
  
"Looks like it. Go change and I'll make some tea."  
  
She shut the door behind him and he meandered down the hall, sniffling and wondering if he was catching a cold. "The tea's in -"  
  
Hikaru frowned. Something strange had happened to the little kitchen while he had been away at his game. "Akari, what did you do?"  
  
His childhood friend bounced past him, long chestnut hair in a high ponytail swinging back and forth. In her high school years she had matured and 'become so pretty and kind' as his mother liked to put it. Hint, hint. Hikaru wasn't that dense, but his mother just didn't get it. Akari was Akari and when he could remember her sitting on his stomach at five-years-old, wielding pink lipstick and dark blue eye shadow in chubby hands, well, it put a damper on any notion of her as a girlfriend. He was content with her as a girl friend, not as a girlfriend.  
  
"I cleaned." He tacked on an unsaid 'you're messy, Hikaru' to her words, because he knew that was what she was getting at.  
  
"I was going to clean, but I've been busy." Games, conventions, _shidougo_.  
  
"Sure." She waved a hand at him, already digging through one of his cupboards. "I know where the tea is. Go change before you get sick."  
  
Would _she_ like it if h_e_ bustled _his_ busy body into her house and started butting in? Hikaru added another reason why he and Akari were better off as friends while he shuffled himself off to his room, lacking the energy to object or argue. Not that he had any reason to object to Akari removing a hassle for him; it was just the principle of the whole thing.  
  
Tossing his damp backpack on his bed, he scrubbed his hand across his face. Not the sort to have patience in dealing with beginners, Hikaru found that holding on to that virtue while teaching a giggling girl who wanted to get to know him was mentally tiring.  
  
Right. He was freezing to death in wet clothes. If he stood around any longer, he was going to be a Hikaru-popsicle. Scrounging about in the pile of clothes that resided upon the floor, he managed to dig up a somewhat decent shirt and a pair of pants. They would do for now. High up on his list of things to do: laundry.  
  
Peeling the wet clothes off his body, he scrambled into his dry ones. He was still chilled, but he could turn up the heat. He had to get back out there before Akari stuck her nose somewhere else. It was his apartment, not hers.  
  
Things still looked the same when he ventured out into the living area. Akari had the kettle and two cups situated on the living room table, wafts of steam from the cups. The girl, herself, was sitting cross-legged next to his goban, her hands dark against paper as she flipped through several sheets of kifu. Behind her, he could see though the rain-streaked windows and into the gray and wet world outside.  
  
Hikaru sat himself across from her, grabbing a cup of tea with one hand and plucking the kifu out of her grasp with his other. "These are your games?"  
  
"Ah, Hikaru!"  
  
He took a sip of tea and grimaced. It was good, but still too hot. Setting the cup aside, he studied Akari's kifu. Not bad. She had definitely improved from the last time he had played her, but she was nowhere near the level of a pro. "You should have been more aggressive here and jumped three spaces instead of two."  
  
"But doesn't that weaken my shape in the left-hand corner?"  
  
"No. The shape has a lot of influence so even if your opponent tries a _tsuke_ here, you can use a _nobi_ here or . . . " She was frowning at him, bottom lip caught between her teeth. Probably unable to visualize what he was going to explain. "Do you want me to show you on the goban?"  
  
"Could you?"  
  
He nodded and brought both go ke to sit in front of him, his fingers swiftly placing stone after stone, recreating the fuseki of Akari's game.  
  
"Hikaru, do you want me to order some take-out? You don't have anything to eat in your fridge or cupboards."  
  
Was nosy Akari's middle-name? Sure, he hadn't been out to shop for a while, but he hadn't been home all that much. "There's ramen."  
  
"That's not food."  
  
She was worse than his mother. "Yes, it is."  
  
"Not when you eat it for every meal."  
  
"Fine, order out!"  
  
Akari frowned, "You don't have to be so mean about it."  
  
"And you aren't my baby-sitter."  
  
"Are you sure Isumi-san and Waya-san weren't, though?" Brushing aside her bangs, she gave him a look. "Are you really all right living here by yourself?"  
  
It did get quiet at night with his old roommates gone, but he wasn't exactly going to be alone in a few days anymore. "Yes! Would you just order?"  
  
"Have it your way," she said and reached for the phone.  
  
Which decided to ring the moment her hand wrapped around the receiver. She shrieked and jumped away from it, tripping over her own feet and falling on her rear with a loud thud.  
  
Hikaru felt it appropriate to laugh.   
  
"Scare you?" he questioned, reaching to pick up the ringing phone himself.  
  
Akari glared, "It's not that - nevermind."  
  
"Hello, Shindou Hikaru here," he spoke into the phone, afterwards sticking out his tongue at Akari.  
  
She reciprocated the gesture in his direction.  
  
"Shindou-kun?" The voice was rough at the edges, but Hikaru knew it. "This is Yashiro . . ."  
  
"Yashiro-kun! Are you coming out to Tokyo soon?" Hikaru leaned back, cradling the phone against his shoulder. The Kansai pro usually managed to visit once a month and always announced his arrival a week or two ahead of time by phone call.  
  
"I-I . . . you mentioned that you were going to have room once Isumi-san and Waya moved out, right?"  
  
"Yashiro?"  
  
"I was wondering if I would stay with you for a few days. It wouldn't be longer than a week or two, just until I find an apartment-" Yashiro's voice was strangled, as if he has being choked by a noose, sounding very unlike the usual confident pro Hikaru knew.  
  
Akari was looking puzzled and he waved her off. Despite her obvious concern, Hikaru didn't think this was a conversation she should listen in on. She tilted her head, then nodded, getting to her feet and wandered onto the kitchen, cradling her cup of tea in her hands. Hikaru could still see her, drifting through the kitchen and checking in cupboards while sipping her tea. Anything to keep her mind off of listening to him, he assumed. There were a few good things to be said about being friends for as long as they had been.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
" . . . I got kicked out of the house. My grades were dropping and Father told me I needed to stop wasting my time and get serious about school and not mess around playing some stupid game. He told me to stop. We got into a big fight and . . . and then he kicked me out and said I couldn't live under his roof until I came to my senses."  
  
Hikaru tried to find something to say. He had known that Yashiro's parents didn't think that being a go pro was a decent job or a job at all and he had known that over the past year or two, Yashiro and his father had been having difficulties over it, but for it to have gone this far . . . it left a heavy weight in the back of Hikaru's throat. Yashiro's situation was a strange affair compared to Hikaru's own home-life.  
  
"I have room, but are you sure you want to come all the way out to Tokyo? I mean, don't you have games? It's a long way to travel. Is there anyone you can stay with out there?" That came out wrong.  
  
For an instant Yashiro didn't answer him and all Hikaru could hear was the pounding rain and Akari's faint muttering combined with long, stuttering breaths on the other end of the line. "Here? They have roommates . . . or families and I don't want -" Yashiro paused, as if reconsidering something and finally responded with a weak "-want to intrude. Forget it, I shouldn't have called-"  
  
"No! No. It's all right. You can stay here. Please."  
  
"You're sure?"  
  
"I wouldn't say it if I wasn't serious!"  
  
Hikaru thought he heard a frail chuckle on the other side. "I know."  
  
"Uh, but what about your games and lessons?"  
  
"I only had a few lessons scheduled this week, but I've already canceled them or had someone else take them. There's a game, but that's the only thing I really need to be at." For a pro, that was a sparse schedule, especially since their income depended on tutorials and the like. "School, you know. It didn't leave much time for anything except studying."  
  
"Oh." How lucky had Hikaru been with his own parents. With no knowledge of the world of go, his mother had still granted him his freedom, even if she worried herself gray hairs.  
  
"I should be going. I'll see you in a few hours . . . and thanks. A lot."  
  
"It's nothing! Do you want me to meet you at the station? It's raining pretty hard." As if backing up his words, the rain intensified and he looked out the window, studying the rolling clouds that grew ever darker.  
  
"No, I'll be fine. I know my way to your place. Later." And then Yashiro hung up.  
  
Hikaru stared bewildered at the phone for a few seconds before fumbling to hang up himself.  
  
"The tea's probably cold by now, Hikaru." Akari crept out of the kitchen and it struck him that she might have been eaves-dropping despite the distance she had placed between them. Her dark eyes were worried.  
  
He smiled weakly back at her, still reeling from Yashiro's unexpected call. "Yeah."  
  
Silence in the room grew thick, before Akari let out a sigh. "Okay, tell me."  
  
"Tell you what?"  
  
"Why you're acting like . . . that?" Thankfully, he struck out the idea of Akari eavesdropping in the face of her question. "Is everything all right?"  
  
She wouldn't stop annoying him until he told her and in the long run, it wasn't like she was going to find out eventually. To let her know swiftly was going to be more painless then keeping it from her. "I'm fine. But Yashiro-kun got kicked out of his house and is coming over here to stay until he can get his own place. It's only going to be for a week or two at the most."  
  
"Who's Yashiro?"  
  
"A pro my age. He's a 3-dan from the Kansai Go Institute."  
  
"Does Touya-kun know him?"   
  
A distant alarm went off in the back of Hikaru's mind. "Why?"  
  
" . . . Hikaru, isn't he supposed to move in with you?" Under Akari's expectant gaze and words, everything fell into place. "Don't tell me you forgot."  
  
"I didn't forget!"  
  
"You forgot."  
  
"I would have still said yes."  
  
Akari grinned, " You should call up Touya-kun to tell him."  
  
"I'm going to. Sheesh." It took a moment for him to pick up the phone again and another one to remember Touya's number. Caught in the process of dialing, Hikaru barely caught the flicker of movement that was Akari opening the door into what had been his old room. The apartment consisted of two bedrooms. One was big and one was small. Waya and Isumi had shared the larger room -- leaving Hikaru by himself in the smaller one -- but when they had moved out, he had quickly transferred his stuff over to the big room. First come, first serve had been his thought at the time.  
  
"What are you doing?" he hissed at her, listening to the dull ringing on the other end of the line.  
  
"You aren't going to have him sleep on the couch, are you?" she said, poking her head into the bedroom. "What are these boxes doing in here?"  
  
No one was answering at Touya's house, so he hung up and started dialing what he knew to be Touya's cell number. "Waya and Isumi are storing some of their stuff here until they get back from China."  
  
"Well, you're going to have to move them off the bed and somewhere else. Is there room in the closets?"  
  
"I don't know." Touya's cell was turned off. He was probably busy with his study group. Did that take place today? Hikaru decided that he would have to speak with Touya tomorrow, after he got his scheduled games of shidougo out of the way. They were planning to meet at his father's Go Salon afterwards, so he could catch him there. Preparing to hang up the phone, he could only gape in surprise when Akari snatched it out of his hand.  
  
"Why don't you find somewhere to put them other than the bed, then, and I'll call for takeout!" she chirped at him.  
  
He twitched. "This isn't your house."  
  
"You're just going to leave all those boxes in there for Yashiro to deal with?"  
  
"No!"  
  
"Then move them. A person can barely walk in here."  
  
"Are you calling?" he shot back at her.  
  
She crinkled her nose. "I will. What do you want to eat?"  
  
"Ra-"  
  
"You know what? I'll just order for all of us and extra for your friend when he finally gets here."  
  
Why did he put up with her?  
  
The rain dashed against the window, causing it to rattle and Hikaru to startle. He stared out into the dark and wet of outside and bit his bottom lip. "Do you want me to walk you to the station when we're done?"  
  
He felt the warmth of Akari's body on his back and saw her reflection in the window come stand behind his own, the phone clenched in her hand. "That would be nice."


	2. Sequence 1

Title: Sequence 1/?  
**Rating:** PG-13 in the long run  
**Pairings:** future Hikaru/Akira  
**Disclaimer:** Belongs to Hotta Yumi and Obata Takeshi. I am not them. I do not own Hikaru no Go.  
**Comments:** Yashiro makes a phone call and Hikaru and Akira talk . . . followed by Akira plotting his heart out.  
  
Kiyoharu is Yashiro's first name.  
  
Thanks to the lovely Chevira and Middles for betaing this for me again. My main beta is adrift with no comp, but if she ever gets back, she can have at this all she wants. Any mistakes you find are all mine!  
  
I should probably go through this and code certain things in italics, but I'm tired and I still haven't finished packing. I shall be writing this in long hand from now one, due to work and no access to a computer except on my days off. Hopefully, I won't be too long between parts.  
  
And thanks to all the wonderful people who reviewed. *waves* C&C is always welcomed.  
  
  
  
The body on the bed was a disjointed and unstrung marionette, its long limbs sprawled every which way, bed sheets twisted about its torso, and its head planted face first into a pillow. A tanned hand hung off the edge of the bed, its fingers loosely snarled in the edge of a blanket. A muffled snore came from somewhere between the pillow and the face and Hikaru stifled a laugh.  
  
He had been checking to see if Yashiro was anything near awake, but apparently not. Well, he would just have to leave his guest a note since Hikaru was going out shortly.  
  
"Lucky you," he muttered to himself, shutting the door. Yashiro didn't have to get up and go to a demonstration that was scheduled far too early in the morning to be sane.  
  
Then again, Yashiro had other difficulties, didn't he?  
  
It was strange how Yashiro seemed taller laying down this morning than he had last night, when Hikaru had answered the door to find him with his shoulders slumped forward; a dull look in his eyes. Hikaru had walked Akari to the station only an hour earlier, after she had bossed him around for a period of time until everything was clean to her satisfaction. That included cleaning his own room -- Akari had given him a horrified look when she had seen it -- and doing laundry.  
  
But somehow, when Hikaru had opened that door to greet Yashiro, he doubted that his fellow pro would have even noticed if boxes were still crowded in the bedroom. The other boy had blankly stated his thanks and eventually started nodding off over the dinner that Hikaru had saved for him, his face pale and worn as a faded ghost. When the silence between them had grown too loud and Yashiro had taken too close a dip towards his plate of food, Hikaru had shuffled his friend off to bed, despite his mumbled protests.  
  
Those protests hadn't lasted long though. As soon as Yashiro's head had touched the pillow, he was out like a light.  
  
And he showed no sign of waking even now. Yesterday had to have been an exhausting day for Yashiro.  
  
Finding a suitable piece of paper and pencil, Hikaru scribbled down a note to leave on the counter.  
  
"Done!" he announced triumphantly, pulling his hand away and placing the pencil down.  
That was one thing accomplished out of several things to do.  
  
Next was the demonstration . . . after he stopped somewhere to get something for breakfast. Due to his waiting for Yashiro last night, he hadn't gone to a store to buy more food.  
  
And after that he would have to face Touya.  
  
Placing his face against the cool tile of the counter, Hikaru groaned.  
  
*****  
  
The phone wasn't supposed to be considered a monster. It wasn't going to eat him or tear off his arms or rip his heart out while bearing sharp white teeth and stinking of gym socks. Kiyoharu knew that, but he couldn't help eyeing the innocent machine like it was going to tear him into pieces.  
  
On second thought, it wasn't the phone that would destroy him; it was what would be on the other side of the line if he made a certain call.  
  
A call that he had to make, because despite what had happened they were still his parents. Even if they had kicked him out, his mother with her blank face and tired eyes and his father with his cold fury and sharp words. They didn't deserve to know where he was -- if he was safe -- said his anger, not after they had pushed him away and tried to stomp on his dreams. He had worked so hard to please them and he had been so determined to show them that he could succeed as a professional Go player. Despite his efforts to pursue his dreams and give them comfort at still attending school, they had pushed too far. They hadn't believed in him and they hadn't acted in any way that he felt parents should. Not one word of encouragement.  
  
Kiyoharu felt his stomach roll and bitterness ride on the back of his tongue. He didn't need to tell them where he was. He didn't have to call them.  
  
But that dutiful side of him and the parts of him that had always been eager for a word of praise, told him to call. In spite of their actions, they were his parents and he was their son.  
  
He didn't want to acknowledge them right now, maybe not ever, but if he didn't he would be no better than them.  
  
His hands were damp with sweat and he wiped them off on his jeans, taking in a deep breath and picking up the phone. If he thought about it any longer, he would never be able to do it.  
  
The phone ringed dully and Kiyoharu closed his eyes, promising himself to stay collected, while he waited for someone to pick up. No one did and the cheery sound of his mother's voice on the answering machine was the only answer he got. She sounded so normal, just like when she asked him how his day went after school, and he had to fight against the heavy weight in his chest. Her voice ended and three beeps sounded.  
  
He sat frozen for a second before forcing himself to speak. "I'm not sure if you want to know . . . but I'm fine." What a lie. "I'm at a friend's house and I'll be here for a while."  
  
And then he hung up, without a goodbye and without leaving a way for them to contact him. Maybe he would call them back up another day and do so, but not today. He was grateful that only the answering machine had greeted him, something without feelings that wouldn't talk back to him and break him down.  
  
Kiyoharu collected himself and lurched back onto his feet. He was hungry and Shindou was gone for most of the early afternoon, leaving him a note to help himself to the leftovers in the fridge -- why the leftovers? -- and anything else in the apartment, along with a spare key. Waking up only shortly before noon, Kiyoharu had been hungry, but had decided to attack his biggest hurdle of the day first.  
  
Now that he was finished with it, he could move on to feeding himself.  
  
Upon opening the refrigerator door, Kiyoharu found out why Shindou had only mentioned the leftovers in his note. It was because leftovers of last night's takeout were the only things in the fridge. That is, if Kiyoharu ignored the few condiments on the shelves, not that he considered them anything near a meal. A search through the cupboards produced some tea and instant ramen.  
  
"How do you survive on this stuff, Shindou?" he said, shutting the last cupboard door. "I'll go to the store and get some actual food."  
  
Kiyoharu wasn't planning on surviving off of ramen like Shindou apparently could. He didn't think Touya would be too fond of it, either, when he moved in.  
  
Touya Akira . . .  
  
Kiyoharu had been aware that Touya was going to move in with Shindou, but it had escaped him that the 5-dan would be moving in tomorrow. It made him wonder if he would have called up Shindou for a place to stay if he had known that. Above all else, Kiyoharu did not want to become a nuisance and it could well be that his abrupt stay at Shindou's could make him that.  
  
It was too late to be considering that fact. If he left now, it was conceivable that Shindou would throw a fit and Kiyoharu had seen enough of them to know that while he would survive it, he wasn't keen on spending several hours listening to the irate ravings of his friend.  
  
Why was he still standing around? The food wasn't going to buy itself.  
  
Sighing, Kiyoharu snatched up the keys still laying on the counter and made to leave.  
  
*****  
  
Akira knew Shindou's look of determination like he knew the lines upon a goban. Shindou's mouth would become straight and firm, his eyes would turn into hard pieces of jade, and he would pull back his shoulders slightly, becoming more noticeable in presence. Shindou had a tendency to be overlooked by the majority of the public as just another normal teenager, an enthusiastic and loud teenager. It was only during games when Shindou dropped his cloak of youth and turned serious and dedicated. Akira was different. He had heard people who didn't even know who he was remark upon 'that serious young man'.  
  
Akira always noticed Shindou. He was his rival. He was supposed to notice him. Though lately, he acknowledged to himself, he was noticing Shindou a little too much.  
  
This time, Shindou's determination had him concerned. His eternal rival faced no opponent over the goban and no reason for him to state one of his random goals. At least, Akira didn't think there was one.  
  
But still, Shindou was standing in front of him, looking prepared to face the hounds of hell, with his backpack still slung over his shoulder. Akira dared a quick glance at Ishikawa and she shrugged, bewildered.  
  
That was no help.  
  
"Touya." Shindou gave his customary greeting.  
  
"Shindou."  
  
Shindou frowned, stared at his feet, then the goban where Akira had been recreating a game he had played earlier, and finally brought his eyes to meet Akira's. "Would you mind sharing a room with me?"  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because Yashiro is sleeping in the smaller room. He's staying at the apartment for a week or two."  
  
That was certainly unexpected and Akira had to think on it for a minute. "He's staying over?"  
  
It took several more questions to squeeze gather all the information that Shindou knew. He still had a few questions, but Shindou had no answers for him. If Yashiro had no place to go, Akira was not going to say no. "It's all right if Yashiro stays. The apartment withstood Isumi-san, Waya-kun, and you living in it, I'm sure it can handle us."  
  
But would they be able to handle each other?  
  
Shindou managed a shocked expression for a brief second and Akira wondered if he had expected more resistance from him. Did Shindou think that he would actually reject helping Yashiro? No, it couldn't be that. Their friendship was of the fighting variety -- understandable with their rivalry and the arguments over games -- and it had ingrained in each of them the tendency to be overly-defensive when confronting the other.  
  
Akira had noticed it in himself before and now he saw it in Shindou. The passion for Go ran through their veins and their confrontations were the points where their passion met. It wasn't always fighting. There were times when they would sit over a goban and manage a quiet discussion, their hands grazing each other's now and then as they gestured to different solutions. And then there were the times when Shindou would laugh and chatter away, grabbing Akira's wrist in his callused grasp and hauling him off to do something not Go related.  
  
Their relationship had altered so many times and it continued to do so, but at seventeen-years-old, Akira though he might finally know what it was for him. He would not presume Shindou's feelings.  
  
"Ah," Shindou said, trying to find his words, "then do you want to room with me? Or I could room with Yashiro . . ."  
  
"No!" That came out rather abrupt. Akira cleared his throat and took a moment to regain himself. "No, I don't mind rooming with you."  
  
"Cool," Shindou shifted and glanced towards the door. "I should get going. There's nothing in the fridge and I need to check with Yashiro to see if he wants anything."  
  
Yashiro again. "Take him with you. He has enough sense to keep you from buying more ramen. It isn't healthy to eat it all the time."  
  
"I don't eat it all the time!"  
  
"Right. Don't you have to go shopping?"  
  
"I'm going right now." And Shindou strode his way to the door.  
  
"I'll see you tomorrow then. I should be there late in the morning to move my stuff in." Akira had dinner with his parents tonight.  
  
"All right. You have your key, don't you?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Good. I'll see you, then." Shindou walked out the door.  
  
Akira watched the closed door and before long, brought his eyes back to the goban. He had little to no point of staying now. Not without Shindou to play a game against. So it was time to head home and double-check to see if he had everything packed.  
  
Shindou, Yashiro, and him in one apartment. They could deal with that. Shindou and him in one bedroom. Akira could think of more unpleasant circumstances and few situations that would be more pleasant. Or less than sane.  
  
Gathering the stones, Akira started plotting.  
  
*****  
  
"Do you want to play a game?" Hikaru asked Yashiro, already shifting the goban into the center of the living area and pulling two pillows off of the couch.  
  
Yashiro slid off of his chair, just recently finished with washing the dishes. "Sure."  
  
Hikaru took one of the go ke and set it at his side, while Yashiro plopped himself down across from him and grabbed the other. They both removed the lids silently. Hikaru had the white stones.  
  
"How about ten second per hand speed Go?"  
  
Smiling at his own suggestion, Hikaru observed Yashiro stiffening, then bringing his gaze to bare on him. "Are you trying to recreate last year when we prepared for the Hokuto Cup?"  
  
"And the year before that." Hikaru had participated in all three Hokuto Cups and he was the only one out of the first team to have done so. Touya and Yashiro had both missed one year. Due to a schedule conflict, Touya had missed out on the second year. The third year -- this year -- Yashiro had lost in the first round of the selection tournament. Hikaru had been confused on the why at the time, but now he assumed the loss had to something to do with Yashiro's home life.  
  
"Yeah. Those were fun nights. Except when you hit me with the fan the first year after I fell asleep and then Waya-kun tried to kill me when I woke him up." Waya had been their third teammate for the second Hokuto Cup and he had not reacted kindly to Yashiro's methods of waking those up who had fallen asleep while observing a game.  
  
Hikaru laughed, "You deserved it both times. I only gave back what I got."  
  
"How is Waya doing in China?"  
  
"He's only been there a week, but he and Isumi-san called when they got there and a few days ago. He sounds like he's having the time of his life and driving Isumi-san crazy." Drawing his fingers across the smooth stones in the go ke, Hikaru smiled. "Isumi was worried about leaving me alone."  
  
"I can see where he was coming from."  
  
Was everyone trying to pick on him? He groaned.  
  
"What?" Yashiro was smirking. "I cooked. You ate the food and it wasn't ramen."  
  
"It's nothing you deserve a trophy for."  
  
"Says you." Leaning back, Yashiro raised an eyebrow. "Do you have a timer so we can start the game?"  
  
Good question. Where had he put the timer? Hikaru peeked underneath the couch and immediately spotted the missing device. Pulling it out, he waved it triumphantly in front of Yashiro. "Got it!"  
  
"Great. Can we play now? I'm looking forward to kicking your butt." The amused tone didn't get past Hikaru.  
  
"What are you talking about? I'm the one who's going to win." He straightened, setting the timer. "Nigiri."  
  
Yashiro placed several stones on the board, covering their number in a gentle grasp. When Hikaru had returned from meeting with Touya, Yashiro had still seemed disconnected from everything. Dinner had been another silent affair with him in spite of Hikaru's attempts at conversation and so Hikaru turned to the thing that he and Yashiro knew best.  
  
And it seemed to be working.  
  
The glazed look was gone from Yashiro's eyes and he waited for Hikaru to place one or two stones with a challenging air.  
  
Hikaru placed two stones. Two. Six. Ten. Eleven. Odd. He would still hold white.  
  
"This is almost odd." Hikaru crinkled his brow and Yashiro quickly clarified. "With just the two of us."  
  
"It's only for tonight."  
  
"Yeah, then Touya will be here." Shifting position, Yashiro bowed his head. "Let's begin."  
  
They played through the night, each game melting into a new game. Hikaru lost count of how many times he won or lost and the only thing that mattered was the placement of the stones and the quick reading of how the patterns might play out. They stopped a few times and made trips to the kitchen for tea and snacks, but before long they would return to the goban.  
  
Hikaru's eyes grew weary and his mind slow, but he never thought to stop, not when he faced Yashiro, who was playing with everything he had and more. This, Hikaru thought when he had a moment to do so, is what the taller boy had needed. The Go world was where Yashiro belonged and these games were the only way Hikaru could think to confirm his friend's place.  
  
So they continued to play and when Touya arrived in the morning, they were still at the goban, eyes bloodshot with exhaustion.  
  
Perhaps sensing something, Touya said nothing. For that, Hikaru was grateful. 


	3. Sequence 2

**Title:** Sequence 2/?  
**Rating:** PG-13 in the long run  
**Pairings:** future Hikaru/Akira  
**Disclaimer:** Belongs to Hotta Yumi and Obata Takeshi. I am not them. I do not own Hikaru no Go.  
**Comments:** Bad cooking reigns, Yashiro has difficulties (we know that already), and another scene based around a phone.  
  
Sorry for the long delay. Several things came together to eat my time away the last few months. Thanks as always to Middles and Chev' for looking this over.  
  
Comments are adored and commenters are worshipped.  
  
_ssssssssss_  
  
"Don't save it, Touya. Throw it out. Throw it out!"  
  
Akira shoved the plastic wrapped tray in the refrigerator. "You might not want to eat it, but Yashiro-kun might when he gets back."  
  
"Only if he's suicidal," Shindou muttered out of the corner of his mouth.  
  
The tenacity of Shindou Hikaru. He never knew when to stop. "My cooking is not that bad."  
  
"Right. I'm surprised you didn't poison yourself when left at home. Haven't you heard of too much seasoning? Ah! Don't do that!" Touya struggled to place the last dish in the refrigerator without Shindou's flailing arms upsetting it. Placing one hand against Shindou's chest -- firmly making him keep his distance -- Touya managed to get the last of dinner safely inside. "Noooooo."  
  
"It's not going to kill you." Was there something Akira was forgetting? Yes. His hand was still touching Shindou and while his rival had failed to notice it, it was likely to be only a few seconds until he did. It was still too early to make any obvious moves. Far too early. Akira removed his hand swiftly.  
  
"Only if I'm lucky. I can see the obituary. 'Shindou Hikaru died yesterday at home. He went to get a midnight snack and mistakenly grabbed Touya Akira's cooking and ate it. He died, writhing in agony, upon the floor moments later. The Go World has lost a bright star.'" In a deeper voice, Shindou added, "Touya Akira is currently being investigated for the poisoning of Shindou."  
  
Watching how Shindou was eyeing the still open refrigerator door, Akira shut it before giving him a dark look. "Stop being over-dramatic."  
  
"It was funny!" Shindou adopted a haughty look. "You're just being a poor sport, because you know it's true and you don't want to admit that you have gotten used to eating your own bad cooking."  
  
Akira whirled on Shindou, forcing the green-eyed young man to take a position facing him, his back against the fridge. "My cooking isn't that bad!"  
  
"The salt, Touya. You depleted the oceans of salt when you made that - that thing!" In the usual scheme of their fights, they both leaned forward, eager to prove the other wrong. The warmth of Shindou's breath brushed Akira's cheek.  
  
"Like you can cook any better!"  
  
"I can!"  
  
"Who cares?" Yashiro edged his way into the kitchen, his shirt rumpled and feet dragging. He had been gone overnight so he could attend a game at the Kansai Institute that morning. It looked as if sleep had left him wanting. "Aren't you two supposed to be friends?"  
  
In the wake of Yashiro's sudden appearance, dead silence took over in the kitchen while Akira fought against the heat rising in his face. Yashiro's words could be taken a few different ways and Akira's first take on them had most decidedly been the wrong way. What had that been about it being too early?  
  
Shindou squirmed. "The handle's digging into my back," he whined.  
  
"Stop being so childish." But Akira backed away, allowing Shindou to dash away to the kitchen entrance.  
  
Yashiro quickly occupied the space Shindou had just vacated, opening the refrigerator door. "You shouldn't be talking, Touya. I should. I'm the baby-sitter around here." He fished around inside and pulled forth a plastic wrapped plate of food. "Is this the notorious cooking Shindou's ranting about?"  
  
He would have taken offense at Yashiro's remark, but his compulsion to prove Shindou wrong overtook it. "It's not as bad as he says it is."  
  
Shindou gave a muffled snort and Akira plotted his demise. Maybe poisoning Shindou's food wasn't such a bad idea.  
  
Tentatively, Yashiro placed a morsel of food in his mouth. His eyes widened and his throat clenched and strained. It was a long moment and a very long silence before he swallowed and started moving again. The food went into the trash can, plate and all -- Shindou snickered and Akira was positive that he would never live this moment down -- and Yashiro calmly drank a glass of water before letting out a whooping sigh.  
  
"Touya," here Yashiro pointed at him, "you are not allowed to cook until you learn what is edible and what's not."  
  
"Told you." Shindou, basking in victory.  
  
"You haven't proven that you can cook better."  
  
"Anyone can cook better than that!"  
  
"Prove it!"  
  
"I will."  
  
Yashiro's hand coming down on Shindou's shoulder stopped the shorter boy from immediately raiding the fridge. "Let's call for takeout tonight, okay?"  
  
On another night, perhaps Akira would have had Shindou prove himself there and then, but despite the amused light in Yashiro's eyes, dark lines were drawn beneath them and his tall and usual straight posture was slumped and weary. This was not the night. Shindou apparently saw the same thing and backed down with a simple, "Okay, okay. I'll go call."  
  
Akira leaned against the counter. "Just not ramen."  
  
"I can order ramen if I want. I won today." There were two wins Shindou could be referring to. It was better off if Akira didn't must on it.  
  
Yashiro quickly looked to Shindou. "You won your last game today?"  
  
Shindou beamed and made the victory sign with his fingers. "I'm in the Meijin League. It was a tough game, but I beat . . ."  
  
"Ah, congratulations."  
  
"How did you do on your game today, Yashiro?" Akira asked, after studying the other boy for a moment.  
  
Yashiro ran a hand through his hair, sighed, and answered the inevitable.  
  
"I lost."  
_ssssssssss__   
_The night was growing late -- the glow of harsh city lights bright against the dark sky -- and Shindou yet insisted upon hunching over his recreation of the game he had played earlier that day. His nose crinkled and he muttered inaudible words to everyone else but himself.  
  
Everyone else meaning Akira, who sighed and put down his book, giving the clock one last look. Shindou had been sitting down on the floor of their bedroom, studying that game for over an hour. And Akira had to get up at a semi-decent hour for a tutorial. "Give it up, Shindou. Arakawa could have taken the vital point of your left formation and won if he was a more insightful player."  
  
"There would have been another away to win."  
  
"You were almost into yose. He would have won." Shindou's stubbornness was something that Akira at times feared. Other times, it merely gave him a headache.  
  
Shindou sighed and started to put the stones away. "But I won."  
  
"That makes you the better player." Shindou didn't reply, so Akira looked up to see his rival watching him curiously. He shrugged, gave a slight smile. "Against Arakawa-kun, of course."  
  
"I'll beat you in an official match one day."  
  
Akira anticipated that. It wasn't uncommon that Shindou won when they weren't playing for the record book, but as of yet, Shindou had not made a mark against Akira in a professional game, though the several times they had met, it had been close. "Not if you leave openings like you did in your game with Arakawa."  
  
"He wasn't you."  
  
Akira pondered that as Shindou moved the goban between their beds and reached for the light. He paused in mid-reach and whirled around to sit on Akira's bed . . . and his legs.  
  
"Shindou.," Akira said, yanking his legs out from underneath of Shindou's weight, "what are you doing?"  
  
"Did Yashiro talk to you about how his search for an apartment is going?" It was rare that Shindou would be thoughtful on something when it didn't concern Go.  
  
"No. He's said something to you?"  
  
"Not at all."  
  
Their eyes met, Shindou's a dark glassy green. Akira shifted, stared at the wall behind Shindou. "He's not finding anything."  
  
"I think so. And his game today . . . it's the sixth he's lost in a row. He's better than that. He's not as good as we are right now, but he doesn't have as much experience. He'll be a big threat when he does," Shindou said. "I like playing him."  
  
He would. Yashiro's style of Go played against Shindou's style meshed well, creating amazing games of daring moves and exciting challenges.  
  
"I know, but what can we do?" Friendship and the ties it brought was something still a bit of a mystery to Akira. He understood the pattern of Go well enough, but human relations was something infinitely more complicated. It made him wonder how close he really wanted to get to Shindou.  
  
Shindou brought his knees to his chest and rested his head on them. "I don't know. He reminds me of . . ." he shook his head. "I don't think he really knows what to do, either."  
  
"And we do?" The insight Shindou was showing had him mystified. Akira rubbed his temples. "We can help him look for apartments, maybe. Keep challenging him to games."  
  
"If we weren't so far from the Kansai Institute, he could stay here."  
  
Akira gave that a moment's thought. "He could always transfer to our Institute."  
  
Shindou grimaced, "Everyone he knows is at Kansai. I doubt he would want to."  
  
"It never hurts to ask."  
  
"I suppose."  
  
Darting a glance at the clock, Akira frowned. "It's late."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"I have a tutorial in the morning."  
  
"Have fun with that."  
  
How dense could Shindou be? "I should be going to sleep."  
  
"Then go."  
  
The answer was very dense. "Unless you want to sleep with me, you need to get off my bed first."  
  
"Oh." Shindou rolled off his bed. "You didn't have to dance around it."  
  
Akira was determined not to have this develop into an argument right before bed, because if it did, who knows how late he would be fighting with his rival. "I'll remember that. Lights?"  
  
"Fine, fine." The lights went off and Akira heard the faint rustle of bed covers as Shindou climbed into the right bed.  
  
Silence.  
  
"You're a really bad cook, Touya."  
  
Akira groaned. "Good night, Shindou." _ssssssssss_  
Hikaru knew someone was calling his name. Telling him to get up. But he wasn't going to listen. Barely awake and still caught on the soft arms of sleep, he ignored the calls and curled deeper into his warm blankets. It wasn't a school day. Why was his mother insisting he get up?  
  
"Hikaru!" An intrusive hand came down and shook him.  
  
He rolled away. If he could only become one with his mattress, then no one would notice him and he would never have to leave. "Mmagarumph."  
  
"Lazy ass. Hang on a minute." When did his mother use language like that? In fact, when had his mother's voice been that deep? Must be the blankets. "Wake up, Shindou. Phone call for you."  
  
"Urgh?"  
  
"Yes. For you."  
  
Too bad. Sleep was more important than some phone call. "Mmmuphamm," he said, determined to become one with the mattress.  
  
A deep sigh came from his mother. "You're asking for it."  
  
Hikaru barely registered the time it took for him and his blankets to be yanked off the bed and fall into a tangled lump on the ground. He blinked in shock for a moment, staring at the white ceiling and blinding light. "Ow."  
  
"Finally. Stay awake." Yashiro was looking down at him, phone in hand, and his voice sounded suspiciously like Hikaru's mother's. Or wait . . . when had Yashiro become his mother? Or had his mother always been Yashiro?  
  
"Mom?"  
  
Yashiro looked as if he had swallowed a live crab. He raised the phone to his ear. "Don't expect coherency from him, but here he is." And with that he placed the phone in Hikaru's hand. "It's Waya-kun."  
  
It took a fumbling second or two for Hikaru to bring the phone to his ear -- in which time Yashiro fled the room -- but he managed and finally mumbled into the receiver, "Waya-kun?"  
  
"Morning, Shindou!" his friend's voice chirped out, much too energetic for whatever time it was. "You're still in bed?"  
  
"Not any more." He glanced mournfully at the bare mattress. "Mom pulled me out."  
  
"Mom?" Waya choked.  
  
"No. Yashiro!" Where had his mother come in? She wouldn't be here.  
  
"I see." A short hesitation followed, then came the killer question. "Um, why did Yashiro-kun answer the phone at . . . eight in the morning. Isn't Touya supposed to be living with you or is there something else going on?" In the background of wherever Waya was, Hikaru could hear a puzzled voice that sounded like Isumi going 'Yashiro?' followed by what had to be a whispered conference between the two, but what stood out the most was the smug tone in which Waya spoke.  
  
"It's not like that!" he frowned. "Yashiro got kicked out of his house, so he's staying with us until he can find an apartment."  
  
"I see." Hikaru could almost hear the knowing smile on Waya's face. "Hey - wait a minute!" Muttered words came across the line and Hikaru rubbed the last of sleep from his eyes.  
  
"Shindou-kun?" Here was a different voice. The phone must have changed hands.  
  
Hikaru struggled to sit up in his mess of blankets. "Isumi-san?"  
  
"The three of you are living together?"  
  
Isumi's words could only mean one thing when spoken in that tone of voice. Hikaru flailed as best he could on the ground. "Not like that!"  
  
A sigh of relief came over the line. "That's good, then. You and Touya-kun . . ?"  
  
"Stop listening to Waya," Hikaru whined. "Nothing's happened. We share a room, we play go, he cooks horribly -"  
  
"What are you saying?" Touya was standing in the door to their room, hair wet and bare-chested with a dress shirt slung over one of his arms. He was glowering.  
  
Hikaru gulped. "Nothing, Touya." Then, searching for a way to get off the subject of Touya's cooking -- for Hikaru didn't feel like dying this morning -- he mindlessly asked, "What's with the lack of shirt?"  
  
Immediately afterwards he winced, listening to Isumi's shocked "Shindou!" on the phone and Touya's snappy, "The shower head fell off and drenched everything in the bathroom."  
  
"Okay," Hikaru said.  
  
"What was that, Shindou?" Isumi's questioned.  
  
"Nothing, all right?" Nothing, nothing, nothing. And he was really trying not to watch Touya change. Really. That's why he was staring at Touya's back like his was. Right. Bad Hikaru. "Um, how are things in China going?"  
  
"Fine. Waya's getting sick of people taking pictures of him and Le Ping together."  
  
In the background, Waya's voice rang out loud and clear, "You're sadistic, Isumi. You encourage everyone and then you hide behind your hand and laugh. It's not funny."  
  
"Yes, it is."  
  
Hikaru smiled on his end and took a quick peek at Touya, who had just finished dressing and was putting the finishing touches on his necktie. Didn't he have something other to wear than suits and dress clothes.  
  
Touya saw him looking. "I have things to do today, Shindou." He didn't look too impressed with Hikaru's appearance or placement this morning, sprawled and wrapped in blankets. "Don't leave those on the floor when you get up."  
  
"It's Yashiro's fault," Hikaru objected as his roommate left.  
  
"What's Yashiro's fault?"  
  
And here Hikaru had almost forgotten that he was on the phone with Isumi. Handling two conversations -- even if one was only a semi-conversation -- was a difficult thing. "That I'm awake."  
  
"You have to wake up sometime."  
  
"You were nicer about waking me up." At least Isumi had been. Waya was cruel in finding ways to rouse Hikaru, ranging from the simplistic ice water to smacking eggs on his forehead. The latter one had hurt and left him with a bruise.  
  
A muffled conversation took place between Isumi and Waya took place, one that Hikaru couldn't quite make out. Isumi groaned, "Waya wants to know if Touya really can't cook."  
  
"Yeah, can the seemingly perfect Touya be bad at anything?" Waya's voice came through loud and clear.  
  
Touya wasn't around anymore, Hikaru felt safe. "Absolutely horrible. Yashiro banned him from cooking."  
  
Waya snickered, "I wonder if cooking's the only thing he's bad at."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Well, what if he's bad in bed?" Hikaru got the feeling he had walked right into that one. "What are you going to do then?"  
  
"We're not together," he growled. "And stop giving Isumi a heartattack." Knowing Isumi, the conversation was most likely making him go pale with worry. The older Go-player fretted too much over the simple things. Like whether or not Hikaru could take care of himself. He could. Sort of.  
  
"Consider it revenge for Le Ping."  
  
"I think you just want me to go to China to hurt you."  
  
"Yeah, that's it."  
  
"Masochist." 


	4. Sequence 3

Title: Sequence 3/?  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Pairings:** future Hikaru/Akira/Hikaru  
**Disclaimer:** Belongs to Hotta Yumi and Obata Takeshi. I'm just writing for fun.  
**Notes: **Yes, apparently everyone is worse than Shindou's mother. Everyone.

Not too proud of this part, except perhaps for the Akari and Akira scene (which is probably sending off more than a few Akira/Akari vibes, but don't worry). It sucks and it ran quite a bit longer than usual. 3000 words or so.

No one else has really looked at this and while I've done two or three run-throughs, I know I've missed stuff. Probably lots of stuff. Take pity on me and point them out if you seem them.

Someone asked me if this was Hikaru/Akira or Akira/Hikaru. It's both.

C&C will be adored and cuddled.

ssssssssss

Shindou had a way of assuming and announcing things that was must abrupt, Yashiro had learned. Such was the case now.

"What time do we leave tomorrow night, Yashiro?" asked Shindou, leaning over the top of the couch, watching the random, inane movie Kiyoharu had put on for background noise. Shindou held a rather sloppily made sandwich wrapped in a paper towel in one hand.

Kiyoharu frowned, "We?" He studied the kifu he was recreating on the goban. White invading in the upper-left corner -

"As in you and I. " He tilted his head, "You know, tomorrow night. Hotel room. Your game the next day."

"I know. My game. When did you invite yourself?" Shindou had not mentioned it to him before.

Taking a bite out of his sandwich, Shindou mumbled, "You mope if you're by yourself. I come with and we can play speed Go and you won't mope."

Kiyoharu was torn between putting up a fight or letting the whole thing go. Shindou's self-invitation was rude, but Kiyoharu remembered his last night in a hotel, waiting for the game he had inevitably lost. Empty and restless sleep. He sighed. Shindou was just doing what he knew best. Being himself. Still, not putting up something of a minor objection would lead to the other boy surely taking ruthless advantage of him later on, even if the smaller young man did it unconsciously. "Don't you have a game the same day as mine?"

Shindou sagged and managed to look disappointed. "Canceled. Family emergency."

"And you decided to tag along."

"Tag along? I'm not tagging along!"

"Right."

"I've never been to the Kansai Institute before." A pitiful look, just like a dog. That was it. Shindou was one of those dogs -- demanding, energetic, and when the situation called for it, pathetic.

At the thought, Kiyoharu tried to stop the upward twitching of his lips. "You can come."

Shindou looked suspicious. "Are you all right? Your face is all funny looking."

"You keep that up and you can sleep on the street." A pause, another considering glance at the kifu. Black's would have seemed useless if he didn't already know the outcome of the game. Clever. "Does Touya know you're coming?"

"He's not my mother." Another bite, Shindou chewed thoughtfully. "We should leave him lots of leftovers, huh?"

"Is that a subtle way of rubbing his face in the fact that you cook better than him?" Shindou's attempt at dinner, well, it hadn't been an attempt. Dinner had been more than decent, some Western dish that Shindou said his mother always cooked. Points to Shindou for not poisoning them.

"No," a devious smile graced Shindou's face and Kiyoharu didn't believe him for a second slightest second.

"You still have to tell Touya." He wasn't sure what was between Shindou and Touya -- and he wasn't sure he wanted to know -- but Touya would be far from pleased if Shindou was to take off without notice. An upset Touya would lead to more arguments and complaints from neighbors. Kiyoharu had already had to apologize to one irritated woman across the next door. What would those two do without him to handle things?

A groan from Shindou., his free hand waving in the air "I know, I know. It's not like I was going to leave and not tell him." A smirk. "He's worse than my mother."

Kiyoharu deigned not to answer. Touya this and Touya that. Sometimes he thought something was seriously wrong with both of them. He placed white's response to black. Not good enough.

"Hey, is that Shuusaku kifu?" Shindou climbed over the top of the couch, crumbs from his sandwich sprinkling over it and the floor.

Of course, leave it to Shindou to spot that. Shindou and Shuusaku, Kiyoharu doubted that he would ever know the connection between the two. He wondered if anyone knew. "Yes," he answered, eyes flickering to the mess Shindou was making, "and you had better clean that up."

"Geez, I will. " Shindou settled across from him, studying the goban. "Your worse than my mother, too."

"Were you this messy at home?"

Some consideration. "No."

"Then no wonder."

Shindou ignored him, pointed to right side of the goban. "Black invades here next, right?"

A glance at the kifu. "Yes. How did you - never mind."

He was coming to the conclusion that things were better left unexplained when it came to Shindou.

ssssssssss

A knock at the door shook Akira from his contemplation of how badly he was going to beat Shindou the next time they played together. And Yashiro. Yashiro had to have played some part in this.

He heaved a sigh and left the open container on the counter to answer the door. He was mildly surprised to see Hikaru's childhood friend standing behind it, her purse hanging from her elbow and a bag in hand. Fujisaki Akari looked startled herself, but gained a grin, her brown eyes shining in the light.. "Touya-kun! Is Hikaru home?"

"Ah, Fujisaki-san. Come in." She was eyeing the space behind him and he backed away from the door, allowing her to come in. She wore a blue dress and Touya wondered if it was for his absent roommate. "Shindou went to the Kansai Go Institute with Yashiro. He won't be back until sometime tomorrow afternoon." If Yashiro's game went well.

She looked mildly disappointed and her grin fell for a second, but she still entered, sliding off her shoes in a neat and orderly manner. "I was just stopping by to drop off some books that I borrowed." And she was walking down the hall, thick hair swishing about her back, displaying a comfort level that Akira found a bit disconcerting. He had been living here for over a week and still found himself at a loss -- living with Yashiro and Shindou was noisier than living with his parents, but after becoming accustomed to it, he found the absence of their voices and movements uncomfortable -- while Fujisaki took it all in pace. Like she already knew her place here. "Doesn't Hikaru have a game tomorrow?"

He followed her. "He said it was canceled."

She nodded -- as if it made all the sense in the world -- and knelt down by the bookshelf placed against the living room wall. Pulling three books from her bag, she began putting them back. Akira caught her glancing about. What was she looking for? "You're by yourself?"

Under her curious gaze, he fought not to fidget. "For tonight."

Finished with her task, Fujisaki rose to her feet and tilted her head. "Have you had dinner yet?" Before he could answer, she was already peeking into the kitchen.

He would not twitch. This was not her home, how could she be so presumptuous -- and then it hit him like a bag of bricks. Fujisaki and Shindou and been friends for so long that it almost had to be natural for her to assume she was welcome to do what she wished in his home. Shindou's home was her home in a manner, Akira supposed. He tried to quiet the twinge of jealousy in his chest.

"What's this?" Fujisaki held the container that Akira had left out on the counter.

He flushed in embarrassment. "Yashiro and Shindou thought leaving ramen as dinner would be suitable." He was determined not to go further into it, having Shindou bring up his lack of cooking skills every hour on the hour was more than enough.

Frowning, she shook her head. "Hikaru . . ." she murmured in an exasperated tone, speaking more to herself than to Akira. She crinkled her nose, paused, and glanced up. "You haven't had dinner?"

"No."

"Ah," she beamed, "then you can come out and have dinner with me!" Then, perhaps realizing what she had just said, she faltered. "That is, if you have nothing else planned for tonight. I dumped my date for the night and I was going to ask Hikaru, but since you haven't eaten, I thought you might want to come." It came out in a nervous rush and she turned her face away from him.

A date? Now Akira noted the pale lipstick and the faint whiff of perfume on her, realized her blue dress had a different purpose than seducing Shindou. And, he thought, maybe the shining in her eyes hadn't been from the lights. "I would enjoy that very much." Fujisaki looked relieved and he gave her a smile. "Was there someplace you had in mind?"

"We had reservations for a restaurant, but it's expensive." Fujisaki tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "Any place would be fine."

"Could we make it in time to the restaurant, Fujisaki-san?" While not distraught, Akira sensed that Fujisaki was unsettled now that she had brought her date up. He wondered what Shindou would have done.

"Yes, but -"

"Do you want to go?"

"I - yes."

"Then we'll go." He gently took the ramen container from her hands and placed it back in the kitchen. And then -- because he couldn't not say anything -- he asked, "Your date?"

She bit her lip, blushed. "It was stupid. He was stupid." She tried to laugh lightly, but it sounded forced. "Hikaru's always around even if he doesn't listen and I come to him when something goes wrong, which is silly because we never talk about it, but with him . . . it doesn't matter."

Akira couldn't begin to understand, but he nodded and retrieved his jacket from the closet. "What would have done if no one was here?"

Fujisaki shrugged, "Drop off the books. I might have stayed and cleaned, but it's not so messy with you and Yashiro-kun living here." A true smile came across her face. "Hikaru's so messy."

"I know," Akira replied dryly.

"What do you think they're doing right now?"

He opened the door, gave her a knowing look. "Playing Go."

ssssssssss

The most overwhelming fact of Yashiro living with Hikaru and Touya was that the distance from their apartment to the Kansai Institute was far too long. Too long for Yashiro to go back for tutorials and exhibitions and too long for Yashiro to keep returning every night before a game. Too long to be sane. The second fact was that Hikaru didn't believe the solution would be simple. Far from it.

But he did know something.

The people at the Kansai Institute who know Yashiro knew the former fact. They cared for Yashiro, their own protégée. They apparently didn't know the latter fact.

The evidence had been in his face a moment earlier. Hikaru had taken his time coming down to meet Yashiro in the lobby of the Kansai Institute. Now he wished he had rushed there, because he had been barely in time to see Yashiro walk out the door, pale and trailing in the wake of a stone-faced man, like a ship caught in a tide. Old men -- pros -- had been nodding to themselves, speaking to each other. This is what Yashiro needed. To reconcile with his father. They had to let the man know that his son was there and in good health, hadn't they?

Yashiro's father.

And the day had started out so well. Yashiro had gone to his game, looking more like himself than Hikaru had seen since the fight with his father, and Hikaru had found himself in the Go salon upstairs, being challenged by unfamiliar faces, each wanting to see how well this friend of _their_ Yashiro could play. Lunch had passed and Hikaru had caught a glimpse of Yashiro -- still collected -- before taking on a new challenger.

A nice day filled with Go. Now this.

Damn Yashiro's father.

Why kick Yashiro out of the house and then retrieve him after a game? The question turned Hikaru's stomach, but he didn't muse over it. Yashiro was responsible and he wasn't the type to leave his friend behind, not like this. Not unless something wasn't right.

He dashed out onto the streets, looking for that tall, lanky body with its noticeable hair. He almost missed it, but there Yashiro was, getting further and further away, caught in the crowd.

"Yashiro!" Hikaru yelled, pushing his way through the masses. "Wait! Yashiro! Don't leave!"

Yashiro paused, started turning slowly as if it took a great effort. His father gripped him by the elbow, trying to keep him moving, but Hikaru was close enough now and he lunged, caught the sleeve of Yashiro's free arm.

"What are you doing?" he asked, feeling the turmoil in his stomach die down slightly. "Where are you going?"

Yashiro started to reply, "Shindou, I-"

"What do you think you're doing with my son?" Yashiro's father's voice was harsh and he towered over Hikaru. But almost everyone towered over Hikaru, so the intimidation was lost on him.

"What are you doing with my friend?" Someone was wrong in their actions and Hikaru was positive that he was the one in the right.

The man bristled. "It's none of your business."

"Father-"

"Yes, it is!"

"You're one of his go-playing friends, aren't you? That useless game. It'll get him nowhere." The man spat out the words. "He deserves a future and he's coming home and going back to school. He's going to forget this nonsense and get a real job, aren't you, Kiyoharu?"

But Yashiro was silent. Loud, confident Yashiro was silent and as still as a statue. Frozen. How cruel could Yashiro's father be? A crowd was gathering around their confrontation, their faces blurring and their muttering white noise in Hikaru's ears. They were just a backdrop. They didn't matter.

"He's - He-" and suddenly Hikaru wasn't sure he could keep fighting, not with Yashiro the way he was. Did it matter now? His fingers loosened their grip on Yashiro's sleeve. "Why can't you accept what he wants to do? He's good. He could be a top player if you let him. It's his dream."

Yashiro's father scoffed at him. "That dream will get him nowhere. Following it is about as useful as trying to catch a ghost. I know what's best for my son and you should mind your own business. Kiyoharu, we're leaving," and he tugged his son forward.

Ghost. Sai. Sai wouldn't have let it end like this.

Hikaru wasn't going to let it end like this. "You can't do this," he cried, grabbing the man's arm. "This isn't what's best for him."

Yashiro's father growled, "Let go," and he swung his arm out, pushing Hikaru away. Hikaru stumbled backwards, twisted and landed ungracefully on his hands and knees. Pain flared up through his arms and legs and he hissed, his muscles rebelling against movement for the moment. He heard a general outcry, the mutter of concerned voices and a gentle touch on his shoulder. Of course, the bystanders.

"I'm fine," he forced out. "Fine."

"Out of the way!" Yashiro was suddenly kneeling next to him. "Shindou?"

"Just scraped, I think." Hikaru settled back on his legs, trying to ignore the brief bursts of pain from his knees. His hands were covered in blood and dirt, raw. "It's all right."

"He'll be fine, Kiyoharu. It's time to go." Yashiro's father, again. Why was that man so controlling?

Yashiro stiffened, Hikaru could feel it in the way his friend's fingers tightened on his shoulder. "Father." He faltered, breathed in deeply. "Father, I'm not coming back."

"What?"

Quivering, Yashiro's words were forced. "I'll get my things when you aren't home."

"You can't be serious!" The dismayed cry of an disbelieving man.

"Go away," Yashiro said. "You hurt my friend. Go away."

"You're not thinking this through-"

"Yes, I am!" A tense silence followed and Hikaru looked up to see Yashiro's father quivering in rage, his face tinged red.

"Have it your way, then." he finally forced out. "I was willing to give you a second chance, but now you're on your own. Don't come to me expecting help when you come to your senses." He walked away, a man too stiff with pride to look back and, Hikaru thought, one likely never to take back his words. Poor Yashiro, but his father was the real fool.

And that was that.

ssssssssss

"I'm sorry."

He had to be tired and sore, but Shindou still found the energy to give Kiyoharu a glare. "What are you talking about?"

Kiyoharu didn't answer, merely glanced at Shindou's bandaged hands and felt the rock situated in his stomach grow. Unnoticeable beneath his jeans, Shindou's knees were wrapped in gauze and one of them featured a deep enough cut to require eight stitches.

Shindou looked prepared to punch him. "It's not your fault."

"It was my father-"

"Your father! Not you, so stop being stupid." Shindou shifted in his seat, grimacing. "Don't be stupid and blame yourself for what he did. Anything he did."

Kiyoharu kept his silence once more, but nodded and Shindou seemed to let the matter drop.

"I don't like these painkillers," Shindou groaned, referring to the pills the hospital had prescribed him, "my stomach feels all queasy. An' I'm tired."

His worries suddenly forgotten in the larger worry that Shindou might throw up on him, Kiyoharu eyed his friend nervously before realizing what was wrong. "You didn't eat anything before taking them, did you?"

"No," Shindou replied, miserable looking and his eyes glazing over. The doctor had said that the pain meds might knock him out.

"That's why." Kiyoharu dug out a granola bar from his pack and handed it to Shindou. "Eat this before you fall asleep, it should settle your stomach."

"Thanks," Shindou took the granola bar from him and struggled with opening it, wincing while he forced fingers that had to be aching to open it. Kiyoharu stifled another apology within him, but Shindou caught him staring again, and wiggled his fingers in front of Kiyoharu's face. "It's going to be interesting playing like this."

Kiyoharu looked away. "Good luck."

The rustle of a wrapper and chewing sounds announced that Shindou was working his way through the granola bar. "Oy, Yashiro?"

"Yes?"

"How did your game go?"

Kiyoharu blinked, realized that he hadn't had the chance to tell Shindou the results. "I won. It wasn't pretty," he smiled, "but I won."

"Good." Shindou stated with a yawn.

Kiyoharu studied the seat in front of him in the silence that followed, before turning his gaze back to his friend. Shindou was dozing off, his eyes half-lidded and his head nodding forward. In this boy, Kiyoharu had found more support with his choice to play Go in one week than he had ever received from his family. Touya had been there, too, silently challenging him to rise once more to their level and daring him to go further. He remembered telling someone that he wasn't playing to win for the Kansai Go Institute, but that he was playing for himself.

Where he played and who he played for had never mattered to him. He had wanted recognition and for so long he had struggled to find it within his parents, but that was a hope shattered. Now he had to play for himself alone. And for those who waited for him.

The institute at which he played didn't matter.

"Shindou?"

"Hmm?" he answered, half-asleep.

Kiyoharu asked, "Is it all right with you and Touya if I permanently move in?"

"Huh?" Shindou raised a hand to rub at his eyes, before he winced and placed it back in his lap. His green eyes were wide. "Of course. But why?"

"I'm going to transfer." Funny, how those words made him feel like he was jumping off a cliff. "I won't come back here anymore."


	5. Sequence 4

**Title:** Sequence 4/?  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Pairings:** future Hikaru/Akira/Hikaru  
**Disclaimer:** Belongs to Hotta Yumi and Obata Takeshi. I do not own them.  
**Comments:** Asumi Nase appears and has her suspicions about Shindou and Touya's lost it for some unknown reason. Yashiro recieves hints, but doesn't quite get it.

Dedicated to Middles, because she requested this part for her birthday. Happy late birthday!

Shadow Ruins 0 is going to go under revision, because it needs tweaking if I'm going to continue it.

_ssssssssss_

Shindou was forcing a smile at the teenager in front of him, his face full of unnatural, straight lines that meant he had to be making a great effort from blowing up. Trying to be professional, despite the fact that he probably wanted to dump his _go ke_ upon the boy's head. His finger was jabbing towards his lower left corner on the _goban._

Asumi shook her head and swept the last of her stones into her _go ke._ She escaped from her seat quickly, waving off a younger man who had been about to approach the other side of the _goban_. He looked disappointed and not about ready to give up, so she retreated quickly. Nase Asumi was done playing _shidougo_ for the day and she was done with the flirting and the men trying to gaze down her shirt. A Go convention geared towards pulling in the younger generation, right. Most of the boys had been more interested in her than in the game. She knew she was attractive and she didn't mind flirting -- not in the least -- but today she had been here to play Go, not to pick up a boyfriend which most of the male population seemed to think.

And next time she would wear a shirt with a higher neckline.

A two-day Go convention and this was only the first day. She had an amateur tournament to help out with in - she glanced at her watch - three hours. Tomorrow would be another morning of _shidougo_ with hopefully better results.

She would worry about that later. It was time for lunch and Shindou looked prepared to resort to drastic measures.

As she approached behind him, she could hear the grinding edge to his voice.

"No," Shindou said, "connecting here was a bad move. It allowed me to invade your formation in this area and set up to take your key stone. Do you see?"

No, Asumi could tell the boy didn't, because he was no longer paying attention to Shindou or the _goban_, but watching her come to stand at Shindou's side.

Shindou must have noticed to and he turned his head, managing a surprised expression at seeing her two feet away and only a little behind him. "Ah, Nase-chan!"

"Shindou-kun," she nodded and then leaned over his shoulder to study the game laid out upon the _goban_. It was full of beginner mistakes from black's side with white taking very few of them. Still, the game had ended before _yose_ and she could easily see the reasons why. She hoped that Shindou wouldn't mind her invading his personal space too much, along with taking over his discussion. "Maybe I can help?"

He didn't appear to care, merely slumped in his chair and mumbled a "You can try."

"Nase Asumi, beginner-dan," she introduced herself to the boy and without waiting for a like introduction from him, she pointed at the clustered grouping of black stones that Shindou had been. "You moved to connect here with a _hane_, am I right?"

The boy nodded, not looking at the _goban_, but at her. She wasn't up to demanding him to pay attention and she thought that this was probably more response than what Shindou had gotten out of him.

"Two reasons why this was a bad move. First, you concentrated on a corner of the _goban_ and forgot about the rest of it and white was able to invade your formation over here with an _ogeima_, allowing him to isolate off your key stone. Second, you were thinking about gaining stones, not territory." All the _ko_s and attempted _ko_s and they weren't attempts at _ponnuki_ either. "You should have taken your attention to here and used a hanging connection to stay off white's attack."

"If I'd moved there, I would have won?" Now he was looking at the board.

"You would have had a greater chance at winning, yes."

"I see." He probably didn't.

Shindou's hands were creeping towards the _goban_, ready to sweep the stones back into the _go ke_. "Thank you, Nase-chan." He nailed the boy with a too big smile. "If you don't mind, we have to head for lunch before the evening programs."

"Huh? Oh yeah, sure!" The _goban_ was quickly cleared and the boy stood . . . snd stood some more. Studying her. The warning signs. "Nase-san?"

Carefully, she placed her hand upon Shindou's shoulder, feeling him tense at the surprise contact, and whispered into his ear, "Don't do anything."

"Yes?" she pitched her voice low and placed her cheek alongside Shindou's, raising a questioning eyebrow.

The boy paled and backed away. "Thank you for the discussion."

He fled and once out of sight, Asumi pulled away and stretched. Shindou's face was flushed and she laughed kindly.. "Sorry, Shindou-kun, but I'm tired of dealing with hormonal boys and that was the quickest way to get rid of him. Unless they're really stubborn, if they think I have a boyfriend, they back off."

He was rubbing his cheek and giving her a displeased look, which abruptly changed to frantic as a group of girls appeared in front of the table. "Only if you get me out of this," he hissed.

Asumi smiled brightly and wrapped her arms about one of his, tugging him from his chair and pressing up against his side. She giggled at the girls. "Sorry, but we have to eat."

Their faces fell and she and Shindou hurried away.

"What is it with this convention?" Shindou groused as Asumi pulled away from him. "The girls are -" he shuddered. "They're crazed."

"So are the boys." She glanced at him. "You don't have a girlfriend, yet, do you?"

He tripped over his own feet and nearly fell to the floor, a bandaged hand against the all saving him. Shindou yowled and cradled his hand against his chest. Through a strained voice, he still managed, "You don't have a boyfriend, do you?"

"You're lucky you can pick up stones with that hand." It was a prime time to switch subjects.

He grimaced, "I'm lucky I don't have a game for a few more days. That hurt." Shindou was limping -- no longer babying his hand. A reference to his knee, she thought. "Where do you want to eat?"

"Isn't there a ramen place nearby?"

"Yes!" She would have thought that an affirmation if she hadn't heard from Waya's own mouth about Shindou's ability to thrive off the food. He dug a cell phone out of his pocket. "Let me call Yashiro and tell him. He said he would join me for lunch today since he's at the Institute filling out paperwork for his transfer and touring the building."

"We're lucky the convention's so close," she stated and then waited for Shindou to call his roommate, listening to him give directions. He ended the call and shoved the phone back into his pocket.

"I know," she wished he would stop limping. "Speaking of touring, are you one of the guides on the tour to the Institute tomorrow?"

"No. More _shidougo_."

"Same here. Tonight I have an exhibition match against Ashiwara-san."

"Mm, helping out with the amateur tournament."

The ramen place was fairly empty and they found a table quickly. After telling the waitress that they were waiting for one more, Asumi grinned and toed Shindou's chair. "This means I finally get to meet your roommate, right?"

"Do you mean Touya or Yashiro?"

If she had been less restrained she would have thrown the soy sauce at Shindou's head. He was doing this on purpose. "Stop being a brat."

Shindou crinkled his nose at her. "I told you Yashiro was meeting us for lunch. What do you think?"

"I think you deserve to have all those girls hounding you."

"Hey!"

He didn't look too pleased with her comment. "You know, Shindou-kun, most guys would be ecstatic to have so much attention from so many cute girls."

"Aren't girls supposed to like boys who think they're pretty?" he said defensively.

"Not when their only goal is to get into our pants."

He hunched his shoulders. "Well, Yashiro or somebody can have all the girls."

"And Touya?"

"Sure." He wasn't meeting her eyes. It was strange for someone like Shindou and it gave her suspicions. The door chimed as it opened and Shindou was up out of his seat as soon as he saw the young man that walked through. "Yashiro! Over here!"

The few patrons shot him looks and Asumi shook her head. So this was Yashiro. She had heard of him -- the Hokuto Cup was a big event for younger Go pros, for the entire Go world, actually -- but had only seen pictures of him put into Go Weekly. They didn't do him justice, though she imagined he would look even better if he didn't have that scowl etched onto his face. Or if he had looked he had actually slept sometime during the last week.

"Shindou," he hissed as he sat down.

"What?"

"You got me lost, you idiot. Can't you give directions?"

"I did! You just can't follow them."

Asumi decided this would be a good time to clear her throat. "I take it you're Yashiro-san? I'm Nase Asumi, beginner-dan."

The frown on his face swiftly altered to a polite smile. "Yashiro Kiyoharu. I'm 2-dan. I apologize for being so rude, Nase-san. It's a pleasure to meet you."

This was certainly a change of pace from the group she usually hung out with. "He was manners, Shindou-kun. Maybe he and Touya will rub off on you."

"We can only hope," Yashiro added.

Shindou crossed his arms and glared. "You two aren't being fair."

Yashiro said, "You'll live," and gestured to a passing waitress.

They ordered and Asumi leaned forward, resting her chin on the palms of her hands. "Shindou-kun said you were transferring here."

"Yes."

That certainly wasn't a detailed answer. "I saw the _kifu_ of your game from last year's Hokuto Cup against China. You made a wonderful play, forcing that snapback near the end of _joseki_. Very innovative."

"I thought it would be enough to win, but my opponent managed to hold on. It was a tough game." Yashiro sighed and settled back in his chair, his face drawn. His face twisted into a grimace and his voice wane. "I haven't improved much since then."

If he had reached as far as he could reach that would be a problem, but Asumi remembered his game and very much doubted it. That much talent should not have an end. But she smiled and shrugged. "I bet you could still beat me. I merely had a good run of luck when I went through the pro exam and that was barely enough."

"Stop it, you two," the third member of their party demanded. "Both of you are being stupid."

Whatever else he was about to had was going to have to wait for later, because the waitress appeared with their orders. Shindou dug in unceremoniously, while she and Yashiro ate at a slower pace.

Thoughtfully, she finally asked, "What's it like living with Shindou and Touya, anyways?"

Shindou gulped down his mouthful of food and answered for Yashiro. "Touya short sheets beds."

Had Shindou said what she thought he said? Maybe she had heard incorrectly. "What?"

"It's true," Yashiro confirmed. "We came home and both our beds were short sheeted. I don't think he liked the idea of ramen for dinner."

"I know, but I bet Akari gave him the idea." Biting at the edge of his lip, Shindou studied her carefully. "We still need to get him back."

A blind man could have seen what he was suggesting. Asumi raised her hands in front of her defensively. "Oh no, don't look at me. I'm not a part of this at all. Not. At. All."

"Nase," Shindou begged, "please?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No!"

"Let it go, Shindou," Yashiro interrupted. "She doesn't have to help us if she doesn't want to. Though all we would need is a little help . . ."

Damn it, he was pleading her with his eyes. Why did he have to be so good-looking? And Shindou had resorted to begging her silently, his green eyes round and pathetic. Why did he have to be so cute when he did that? She was never going to hear the end of it if she didn't help them. Why did she have to be so weak-willed? "Maybe, so long as it's nothing too drastic."

"Yes!"

She frowned at Shindou, "And only if you promise that you'll hold a study night at your place sometime soon."

He and Yashiro shared a look before he nodded. "Okay, okay. Trust me, you'll like it." He wiggled in his seat. "Hey, do you think Honda-san would help? His place is closer, so it would be easier to move stuff over there."

"Move stuff?"

"Hang on a minute. I have to go to the bathroom." He pushed himself up out of his chair and pointed a finger at Yashiro. "Don't tell her anything until I get back, okay?"

"Okay," Yashiro answered, amused, but Shindou was already heading for the bathroom.

Asumi watched him leave and turned to Yashiro when she was sure he wasn't in hearing distance anymore. "Is Shindou -" she caught herself and studied the tall young man across from her. Would he know and if he did would he even tell her? Was it any of her business asking? She shook her head, ignoring his puzzled look. "Nevermind."

She had no right nosing about.

_sssssssssssssss_

Kiyoharu could hear the voices in the room next to his rising in volume and he thought it might not be long until someone in one of the neighboring apartments complained. As usual, Shindou and Touya were at each other's throats over a game discussion. They weren't the best roommates, Touya was too quiet and focused on every aspect of his day and Shindou was too loud and exuberant even over the simplest things, but Kiyoharu found himself between them. Often less restrained than Touya and more controlled than Shindou. He was a buffer between the two and he wondered if they would have killed each other had he not been there. Currently, all he could hope for was that one of them would run out of steam.

Unless he became aggravated enough to go and interrupt them and that was a fearsome thought. Their anger was well-matched and he disliked confronting them when they were in a fight, because it turned that anger on him.

He was tired of being yelled at.

As he shrugged into his t-shirt, he heard Shindou and Touya's argument end with the slamming of their door. Finally. He didn't understand why they had to play a game right before bed.

The door to Kiyoharu's room swung open abruptly and he gazed in surprise at Shindou. His face set in determination, the shorter young man closed the door and leaned back against it, stating, "Touya's a bastard. I'm not sleeping in there."

A big fight, then, but what was he doing telling Kiyoharu this? "That's nice."

"I'm sleeping in here."

"Shindou. No." In Kiyoharu's home there had been boundaries and manners taught. Shindou had obviously been taught the same manners at some point in his life, but he tended to throw them away when it suited him in Kiyoharu's observation. Like now. "You can sleep on the couch."

"The couch isn't comfortable," he whined.

"Then sleep in your own room on your own bed."

"I can't. He keeps glaring and huffing about and I'm going to kill him if I stay in there."

"Huffing?" Kiyoharu found it near to impossible to imagine the collected Touya actually huffing. Shindou had to be over exaggerating the situation. "You two are fighting over a game, suck it up and deal with it."

Shindou sighed and rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes. "I don't know." He frowned. "It started out over the game, but then everything I did seemed to annoy him. I tried to ask him what bug crawled up his ass and it got worse."

"If you phrased it like that, I can imagine why."

"Please, Yashiro." He clasped bandaged hands together and Kiyoharu found his eyes drawn to them. Shindou had taken off the bandages earlier -- a day ahead of the time the doctor had suggested -- and Kiyoharu had almost had to wrestle the shorter Go pro to the ground to make him put them back on. Shindou had a habit of taking unexpected leaps, but Kiyoharu would be damned if he would let him go against doctor's orders when Shindou's injuries were his fault. The hands hadn't looked too bad, most of it scabbed over, nothing that really needed bandages, but it was too great a risk to allow any chance of infection setting into Shindou's hands. So Kiyoharu had forcibly made him put new ones on again. Touya had come in near the end as Kiyoharu had finally squashed Shindou into submission by sitting on his stomach and had gifted both of them a cool look before immediately retreating into his room.

"Shindou . . ."

"Please? He's driving me nuts. You can use my bed. Just this once?"

"Fine." But he was only doing this because he felt guilty over the ordeal between his father and Shindou, he told himself. He owed him something. "But only this once."

"Thank you."

Kiyoharu rolled his eyes and pushed past Shindou. "Yeah, yeah. Good night."

The light coming from underneath the door to Touya and Shindou's room was the only sign of Touya being awake. Other than that, dead quiet issued from the room.

Opening the door slowly, Kiyoharu stepped in and spotted Touya on a bed, reading a book. Touya looked up and narrowed his eyes. They didn't speak for a moment, merely studied each other.

"What are you doing?" Touya finally asked.

A blizzard would have been warmer than Touya's presence, Kiyoharu imagined. "Sleeping in here since Shindou decided to invade my room and bed."

If anything, Touya's expression grew colder. "Is that so?"

Maybe Shindou had been onto something. "Yes."

Sitting down on Shindou's bed, he caught Touya with a twisted expression on his face, perhaps looking for something else to question. Apparently, unable to find anything to latch onto in Yashiro's one-worded reply, he was silent.

Kiyoharu stretched his body across Shindou's bed. Not bad. The pillow was fluffy without being overwhelming.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Touya shooting glares at him, the kind that might have killed if they could have, and while he tried to ignore it, it eventually made him want to grind his teeth together. Sitting up abruptly, he gave Touya his own look. "What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing."

From the tone, Kiyoharu translated it to mean 'shut up and die'. Touya was too polite to say it out loud. "Right."

"Are you suggesting I'm lying?" Touya was out for blood.

"From your behavior, I'm suggesting a bug's crawled up your ass." Echoing Shindou's words, Kiyoharu wondered if the other young man was rubbing off on him a bit too much.

Touya paled, his fists clenching and releasing. He opened his mouth to say something and just as quickly shut it.

Kiyoharu let out a growl and rolled off Shindou's bed onto his feet. "Forget this. I can understand why Shindou left."

Stalking out of the room before Touya could find something else to attack, Kiyoharu returned to his own room to find the lights out and the lump on his bed that was Shindou already sleeping.

"You don't waste time, do you?" he murmured to his friend, considering what to do. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. The couch was a possibility, but like Shindou said, it was uncomfortable. Or the floor, which was even worse.

Kiyoharu was almost heartless enough to wake Shindou up and kick him off his bed, but he had given his word and he tried hard not to go back on his promises.

But he really, really didn't want to sleep on the couch.

He eyed the bed. It certainly wasn't big, but Shindou wasn't taking up too much space. He wondered if Shindou would care and doubted it. His parents would probably have objected, but he was no longer under their thumbs -- something twinged inside of him -- and he was plain tired. The whole thing might be considered inappropriate, however he couldn't bring himself to care.

Making his choice, he pulled up the blanket and shook Shindou's shoulder. "Hey, move over."

A disgruntled mumble issued from his mouth, but Shindou didn't budge.

"Shindou," he gave another shake, "you're right. Touya's being a bastard. Now move over."

A harder shake that seemed to rouse the other young man. Somewhat. Shindou blinked at him with bleary eyes. "Wha - Sai? Don' wanna play. La'er."

Sai? An unknown friend of Shindou's maybe? Kiyoharu nudged Shindou on the shoulder again. "It's Yashiro. Move over."

With a grumble, Shindou complied, rolling over on his side to face the wall. Kiyoharu slid in next to him and stared at the ceiling, briefly uncomfortable against the heat coming from Shindou's body. It soon went away against the onslaught of sleepiness that washed over him.

He relaxed into it and even as it pulled him in, mumbled to his sleeping friend, "Touya's going to get it."

_ssssssssssss_

The opening of the door woke him up and Kiyoharu had a hard time disconcerting features on the dark figure silhouetted by light. He knew who it was, though.

"Touya?" he croaked.

The figure shifted and the background light struck his face enough for Kiyoharu to see it was full of sharp edges, mouth drawn in a tight light and eyes thin and narrow. "Shindou has the convention today. He needs to leave in an hour."

Evidently that bug was still up Touya's ass. Kiyoharu glanced to Shindou's side of the bed, finding him in the same exact position that he had rolled into last night. Solid sleeper. "Sure, I'll get him up."

He sat up and yawned before noticing that Touya hadn't budged. Kiyoharu stretched his arms, observing that Touya was not studying him, but Shindou. It was an intense look, but not like the glares of last night and he thought it strangely closed off. "I said I'll get him up."

Touya started and took a step back. "Of course." He drew in an audible breath. "I apologize for last night, Yashiro-kun. I was in the wrong."

Kiyoharu watched his eyes go back to Shindou and then dart away. "Yes, you were," he said. "I thought you more restrained."

"I was caught by surprise by something and . . . did not react well. I should not have acted towards you and Shindou as I did." Kiyoharu recognized the edge of pain and shame in Touya's voice.

What could catch Touya by surprise? "You have to apologize to Shindou, too. I don't want him running into my room anymore. I like having my bed to myself."

"I know and . . . understood." A lighter tone had entered Touya's voice. "But since you offered, you get to wake him up. I'm going to take a shower."

"What's that supposed to mean?" but Touya was already gone by the time Kiyoharu asked it. Bastard.

"All right. Shindou, wake up." No response. He tugged on the blankets and while Shindou moved, it was away from him and most of the bedcovers except for a thin sheet. So, Shindou needed a physical wake-up call. Kiyoharu grasped his friend's shoulders and shook. "Wake. Up. Shindou."

Shindou grunted and swung an arm wildly, landing a glancing blow on Kiyoharu's nose. "Not time."

Kiyoharu fell backwards, a hand covering his nose. It didn't feel broken, but that had hurt. He was not going to deal with this all morning. Climbing to his feet, he leaned over the bed and plugged Shindou's nose with his thumb and forefinger. "WAKE UP!"

Shindou lurched awake, gasping for breath and flailed violently. Releasing Shindou's nose, Kiyoharu took a step back, but it was too late and Shindou tumbled off the bed, catching Kiyoharu in the waist.

He abruptly found himself on his rear with a pile of barely awake Shindou in his lap. Green eyes blinked at him. "Yashiro?"

"Get off, Shindou."


End file.
